


Power Cut

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lights go out and Greg really should have waited for John to find the torch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power Cut

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Older Not Dead comm on LJ, proptathon 13: Surprise. For the prompt "Power goes out".
> 
> Once again many thanks to notluvulongtime for the rapid beta.
> 
> Warning for blood.

  
John Watson settled down on the sofa and switched the television on.  He flicked through the channels, finally settling on an episode of “Dad’s Army.”  He could hear Greg pottering about in the kitchen, tidying up a bit whilst making them both a cup of coffee.  John was glad it was Friday night and they were home together, and was looking forward to a chance to relax.  Although he had moved in with Greg a couple of months previously there didn’t seem to have been that many opportunities just to chill out together.

Suddenly the television went off and the room went dark.  The swearing from the kitchen told John that the power was off in there, too.  John got out of his chair and edged towards the window.  From there he could see that there were no lights in the flats across the street, so it had to be a power cut rather than just a blown fuse.

“Do you want a beer instead of that coffee?” Greg called out.

“Yes, please.  Can you manage to open them in the dark or do you want me to get the torch?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

John listened as Greg moved round the kitchen and scrabbled in the drawer for the bottle opener.  He heard him open the first bottle and then there was a crash followed by some more swearing.

“You okay?”

“Ye-es.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“Well, actually, no.”

“Right.  Don’t move. I’ll get the torch.”

John made his way into the hallway and felt carefully along the shelf until his fingers came into contact with the torch.  He switched it on and headed back to the kitchen. 

He stood in the kitchen doorway and aimed the beam on Greg, who was holding his hand in the air whilst blood dripped down his arm.  John sighed.

“We’d best deal with that in the bathroom,” he said.  “I’ll shine the light onto the floor so you can see what you’re walking in and then we can go and sort you out.  No, don’t worry about that, I can deal with it later.”  The last remark was because Greg was trying to pick up bits of broken glass with his other hand.

A slightly sheepish Greg left the kitchen and the two of them made their way into the bathroom.  John gave Greg the torch to hold in his uninjured hand whilst he examined the various cuts on the other one. 

“How did you do it?” he asked.

“I can’t have put the bottle properly on the kitchen surface after I’d opened it.  I realised that it had fallen over and I tried to grab it.”

“And instead you knocked it against the surface, where it broke.”

“Err, yes.”

John refrained from pointing out that it would have been easier if he’d got the torch in the first place. 

“I’ve put a bandage on the worst cut for the moment,” he said.  “I don’t think it’s too bad, but that will stop the bleeding whilst I make sure you haven’t got any glass in your hand.  Give me the torch for a minute and don’t move.”

Greg listened as John apparently pottered around in their living room, although he couldn’t work out what he was doing.  After a few minutes John returned carrying three large candles and a box of matches.

“I knew Molly’s house-warming present would come in useful sometime,” John said as he gave Greg back the torch.

He set the candles on the wash basin and lit them. 

“Very romantic,” Greg said.

“Hmph.  I’m not sure how long the torch battery will last.  At least with the reflection of the candlelight in the mirror I can see your hand well enough to make sure it’s okay.”

Slowly and carefully John checked all the cuts on Greg’s hand.  Finally, when he was satisfied that there was no glass remaining and everything was clean, he pressed a gentle kiss to the palm.  Then he picked up the torch again and took Greg’s other hand, leading him into the bedroom.

“Get yourself undressed,” he said, “and get into bed.  Don’t try and do anything else.  I’ll be back in a bit.”

He went into the kitchen and cleared up as best he could under the circumstances.  He put one of the kitchen chairs over the section of the floor where he suspected there could still be some stray shards.  That way, he could finish the job once the lights were back on or, failing that, in daylight the next morning.

He then went back to the bedroom and took his own clothes off, before joining Greg in the bed.

“Right; it’s far too early to go to sleep, so we’ll need to do something else to entertain ourselves.  Is there anything you can think of that would help pass the time?”

The laugh that greeted this question said that yes, Greg did have one or two ideas.

 


End file.
